4A is everything that I one day aim to be, and I can’t freaking contain my grin as Missy knocks on the door, Ava and Asher behind us. It took us two hours to get here in Los Angeles, and we were buzzed in through the gates already. But now that we’re actually standing in front of the house, my nerves kick in, so I take a very deep breath.
“Just keep it cool, okay?” Missy says over her shoulder. She’s in one of her tight black dresses which she wears on stage a lot,paired with some pink Converse sneakers. We all opted for our regular clothes, the ones we perform in. Since they want to meet Encore theband.Not Encore the corporate suits.
Doesn’t mean I didn’t grab my whitest, cleanest shirt and my least threadbare jeans. Even cleaning my damn army boots while I was at it.
And when I was doing my hair, trying to make it look cool enough, Ty grabbed me from behind, holding on to my waist. He said I looked very fuckable, then proceeded to go down on me to take the edge off. So maybe I now look fucked-able. That’s good enough for me.
When the door clicks open, I’m kinda relieved to not see one of the intimidating band members there.
Nope. The door gets opened by someone else who’s famous, giving us an inviting smile, a toddler on her jeans-clad hip. Evangeline, better known as Evan. She’s famous for being the girlfriend of four of the five band members from 4A. Them being in some poly-group thingy. I don’t know how exactly all of it works, but hey, whatever strikes your fancy.
She’s hot, the old me would tap that, so I understand.
I remember that it was a real thing when it came out. So I guess she knows a thing or two about the situation we’re now in. And when she gives us all a one-armed hug and happily introduces herself and invites us in, I already decide that I like her.
Swallowing my nerves away, I follow her with my friends through the impressive house. It’s big–bigger than I’ve ever been in–and modern, but still homey, toys and knick-knacks lying around everywhere. It makes me feel more at ease. They’re still just people like us.
But when I follow her down a set of stairs, which leads to an actual state-of-the-art fucking studio, my hands get clammy anyway.
Because there the fuck they are, on two out of three red comfortable looking couches in a corner-setting, next to the control panel.
Madden, Bryson and Wolf. Three out of the five members of my favorite fucking band, 4A.
Fucking unreal.
Missy takes the lead and shows that she’s got bigger balls than any of us–dudes included–by extending her hand and introducing her and us to the members, who stay seated and look at us in curiosity.
Evan puts the toddler on Madden’s lap and grabs a couple of cans of soda from a nearby mini-fridge, handing them out to us as we take a seat across from them. From my fucking idols. And I can only grin, giddy from even being in the same presence of these legends.
When introductions are done, Wolf gets up with a clap of his hands, his flowery, flared pants bright on my eyes. And it’s the only thing he wears.
“Yes! I’m very excited that you guys and gals are here!” he exclaims, his famous mismatched eyes bright. “Thank you for coming over on such short notice. But in this world, you have to be quick to snatch new talent up, you know? Ever watched Snatch? It’s freaking good.”
I cock my head and press my lips together. I’ve heard and read about the bizarreness that is Wolf, seen the peculiar man in interviews, but experiencing it in real life is kinda awesome.
“Yeah,” I answer when my friends stay silent. “I’ll watch anything with Brad Pitt. I mean, who wouldn’t?”
Wolf snaps his fingers and points at me. “Yes! My kinda man. I have a lunch date with the Pitt somewhere next week. I’ll tell him you said hi.”
“Thanks?” I say, blinking. They know Brad Pitt? This whole situation is surreal.
“You’re welcome,” he says cheerily, throwing an arm over Evan’s shoulders, who’s now seated on the armrest next to Madden.
I eye the rockstars, taking a few deep breaths to keep myself centered, and try to give my friendliest smile. “Yes, thanks. Thanks for inviting us,” I proceed, fiddling with the bracelet Ty gave me. “We’re very excited to be here, for you to have even seen our video. But you were a bit vague with the messages.”
Wolf said 4A wanted to meet, but he didn’t saywhythey wanted to meet. But when 4A asks you to come by? You grab your shit and yougo,reason be damned.
“He’s always vague,” Madden, the lead singer, states in his recognizable, rough voice. “Don’t ask him to elaborate. Half of what comes out of his mouth doesn’t make sense, anyway.”
Wolf flicks him upside the head and opens his mouth to protest, but Madden cuts him off, taking over the conversation.
“We invited you so you can show us what you‘ve got,” he says matter-of-factly, with a nod to the setup they have inside the studio. “If you're even half as good live as you are in that video? Then maybe we have an offer from someone. An offer you wouldn’t want to pass up.”
I eye the studio, there’s a decent sized room with a full drum-kit and a lot of other instruments, heart hammering in my chest. Becausefuck me, an offer? I don’t even want to think about what it could be. We first have to survive this audition, because that’s what this feels like.
“So this is some sort of screening for someone else?” Missy, ever the clever one, asks.
“Exactly,” Madden confirms, nodding towards her. “We already watched some of your other material. You got some real good songs on your hands. All original?”
